I’m starting a new DIY Home Improvement series—-Loving My House…Again. Our house is 13-years-old, we’ve lived here 11 years. I have fallen out of love with our house. We are raising 3 messy, rambunctious and adorable boys who are not “easy” on this here house. Our home is looking used and abused. We want to spruce it up without selling one of our kids to fund the remodeling. To jump-start our home transformation and to get our booties’ off the couch and from behind the monitor, I’m starting this series. I hope it works, because, remember, I have that darn lazy gene. First off, I wanted to write a letter to my basement.
We’ve been through a lot these past 11 years. When I first met you, you were a blank slate. You had so much potential. Yes, you were kind of cold and hard around the edges, but you stored a lot of my dear things for me. Thank you for that. Eventually, you had some work done and became a cheerful, warm, fun place for the family (mostly the kids) to play. Then one day five years ago, something happened to you. That darn friend of yours, Sump Pump, was a jerk and stepped out on you. You were flooded and I was gutted. We spent the big bucks fixing you up again. I thought we were good. You had your talk with Sump Pump and he said he was sorry, but this Spring it was time for Sump Pump to pass on to the great pump in the sky so Sump Pump #2 came to live in your closet. What happened between the two of you? You were getting along fine, then two weeks ago he decided to step out on you too. Flood #2. You let yourself go again. You need to stand-up for yourself and show these sump pumps who’s boss. You need to continue with therapy or I’m divorcing you.
So far two specialists have come to talk to you and Sump Pump #3 is installed (he’s kind of cute). I’m going today to order your new carpet pad. I will help put you back together, but you’ve got to try harder to stay tough and dry. Build up some waterproof walls to protect your insides, girl. Only let in nice, dependable sump pumps from now on. I’m tired of cleaning you up with a wet vac after every crisis.
There. I’ve said my peace. I hope we can still be friends. I don’t want a divorce. We can make this work–one rain storm at a time.